


Alive (Maybe Things will Work out for Once)

by DragonBread



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Inexplicit Sex, M/M, Other, i was trying a different writing style and idk if i like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonBread/pseuds/DragonBread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Almostpocalypse, Aziraphale is grateful for what he has. So is Crowley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive (Maybe Things will Work out for Once)

It’s Sunday evening, the day after the Almostpocalypse, and Crowley has been far too pensive all day. Both of them have, really—it’s not every day the world nearly ends, and it’s left them both shaken. They have dinner together—not the Ritz, that was lunch, but it’s lovely all the same and afterwards he drags* Crowley back to the bookshop with him. He miracles up a bottle of wine (something red, but he’s not paying that much attention and neither is Crowley) and they drink until pensive turns into something more like giddy relief, and they’re both _alive_ even though by rights they shouldn’t be, and there’s wine and the bookshop still smells musty and they drove to dinner in a car that hadn’t existed at the end of yesterday and maybe, just maybe, things are going to work out for them for once.

He wasn’t sure when they’d both ended up on the couch; it just seemed _right_ , somehow, to be curled up against the demon’s side, touching as much as had ever been allowed, leaning close enough to feel each other’s heartbeat, the steady thrum reassuring him that they were here, and together, and alive. He isn’t sure who shifts first,** but their lips meet—softly, at first, hesitant, and then harder, mouths opening hot and wet and so, so right, and he’s been waiting six thousand years for this moment, Crowley’s tongue _oh_ in his mouth and it’s a dance he’s never danced before but making an effort has never been less of an effort and he loses himself in _ah_ and _yes_ and _Crowley_ and sensation and he’s alive, they’re _alive_ , against everything, and it’s that thought that tips him over the edge, shouting and holding on to the demon— _his_ demon—as though he’s the only thing anchoring him to this world. Crowley clutches him back—he feels it too, he has to, this overwhelming _thing_ that’s been between them since before there was time, that’s been building up to _this_ , this moment, and he’s sure they’ve never been so _alive._ And the couch is still tartan, and Crowley’s apartment is still unlived in and tomorrow will be the same as next week but that’s fine, that’s great, because there wasn’t supposed to be a next week and he’s sure he’s never loved Crowley more and he tells him so and the Demon huffs, and holds him closer in a way that says he feels the same. And maybe, just maybe, things are going to work out for them for once.

*it’s not that hard, really, but the demon pretends to protest

**although, if questioned, he would always blame the demon

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I was trying something different, so feel free to leave any and all negative feedback. This was my first fic for GO, so there's that as well. This came out of my mind not shutting up about needing a fic with the line: "making and effort had never been less of an effort"


End file.
